


Ownership

by ThetenthtenbeingofTen



Series: Thorny Dawn Universe [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Disfigurement, Light BDSM, Male on Female sex, Multi, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Piercings, Vaginal Fingering, reunion with past abuser
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 11:34:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13763253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThetenthtenbeingofTen/pseuds/ThetenthtenbeingofTen
Summary: Menina and Mihail enjoy a calm day together, or so they thought. But Mihail's past caught up to them in ways neither of them ever anticipated...





	Ownership

**Author's Note:**

> Mihail and Menina run into a certain someone…
> 
> Warnings: Past abuse, disfigurement, piercings, Male on Female sex (mildly graphic), fingering, soft BDSM-themes, reunion with past abuser

It was meant to be a calm, relaxed weekend for them.   
It was a rare, chilly day in July, a perfect occasion for Mena to wear her new favorite jacket. The navy-denim jacket Mihail had bought for her birthday. 

Today he said they should get the groceries and take a walk together. Mena had agreed happily and here they were. Both were holding small bags; Mihail had bread from the nearby bakery, Mena had pastries.   
She had suggested to have a little picnic in the park and Mihail didn't see a reason why he should say no to that.

So they walked towards the park, passing by people with their dogs, parents with their children. Some people smiled at them, some stared, some pointedly averted their eyes.  
Mihail felt slightly more accepted when he walked with Mena, even though a bunch of people still gave him nasty looks.  
He stood out, no matter what he did. Mena didn't seem to mind the looks he – and by extension she – was getting. She held his hand innocently; like this she felt like she was protecting him, even if just a little.  
Mihail didn't mind the touch.  
It felt like he was holding his little sister's hand, he thought. He didn't have siblings, but he imagined it might feel a little like this.  
He let go of her hand to push up his glasses and stroke back his hair before joining their hands again.

There wasn't much to say between them, so they walked in relative silence.  
Mena always wanted to hear stories about him, but she knew to wait rather than to ask.  
Mihail was a patient man, but despite his best efforts to be a calm and kind guide and mentor he couldn't always hide the pain in his past.  
Menina was morbidly fascinated by his past.  
There seemed to be so much pain buried in his heart, but he somehow still smiled and cared.  
She has had friends who turned toxic when she missed a few calls from them; she wouldn't dare to try to imagine what those people would become if they went through real abuse like Mihail had.

Mihail on the other hand enjoyed a comfortable silence. He was used to being extroverted, talkative and outgoing, but it could get exhausting, especially with Mena's near-constant company.  
Sometimes their play-sessions turned into a strange cross between a lecture and talk-therapy.  
They often just talked while Mena was restrained slightly and Mihail sprinkled a few slaps between his caresses.  
He wasn't a dom. Never has been and likely never will be. It made him a surprisingly good play-partner for Mena, who wasn't submissive or masochistic either. He had enough experience to in the field of BDSM to play with her, but he wasn't in danger of getting lost in a dominant, sadistic fantasy. It was fun to surprise her with a slightly harder slap on her ass every now and then, but he never went too far. He didn't even leave marks on her.  
He played with her breasts sometimes, either to tease or reward her, but usually he let her keep her underwear on.  
Granted, it was a pair that he had chosen and bought for her, but he didn't see it as a sign of ownership of her body.  
She wore a collar when she was at his place, along with a clip-on cat-tail and cat-ears on a headband, that's what made her his “pet”.  
Believe it or not though, he had made her orgasm on his hand a few times.  
Those were special treats for an especially good session. Even harder to believe was probably the fact that those weren't sexual for him. Not in the sense that they turned him on, that is. Of course it was sexual for her, intimate and exciting; and he enjoyed seeing and feeling her pleasure.

Mihail has had sex with women before. It's not like he doesn't get it up for Mena because she's a girl.  
One of his ex-partners was a dominatrix, who'd make him kneel on the ground, cuffing his wrists to his ankles so his back was arched backward, liked to straddle his face. He'd eat her out until she came and if he pleased her well, she'd undo his binds and ride his cock, allowing him to cum inside her ass.  
Her name was Melissa.  
Mihail couldn't help but notice the funny fact that so many people around him had names that started with the letter “M”.  
Menina, Mattias, Markus, Melissa…

He broke up with Melissa when she got herself a new sub. Not because he didn't want to share his mistress with another, but because he felt like she didn't treat her girl right.

Today Tanya was a confident switcher, but back then, three years ago she was a blank canvas.

Mihail had volunteered as a dungeon-monitor a play-party, where Melissa and Tanya were guests.  
It was Tanya's first ever play-party; nevertheless Melissa quickly found herself another playmate and disappeared with him into a separate playroom.  
She actually tried to seduce Mihail when she spotted him, but he refused. He took his job as monitor very seriously, his own memories still fresh in his mind. He didn't even wear his beloved piercings back then, the sight of them reminding him of the man who put them on him in the first place.  
The only exceptions were lonely nights when he craved the nostalgic feeling the piercings gave him. A reminder of comfort and affection, rather than pain and suffering.

The party went well, moans and lusty cries audible throughout the mansion. The party actually took place at a private mansion, especially outfitted to serve as a location for play-parties like this.  
It had multiple playrooms, a lounge, a terrace and guest bedrooms for overnight stay.

When the party had ended many guests stayed at the mansion, sleeping in the guest rooms. One had to pay a fee to stay though, but nobody complained obviously. The owners of the mansion had to make money somehow after all.  
Mihail was granted free staying, since he had worked as monitor that night. After everybody had either left or gone to their designated bedrooms he patrolled the open rooms once more.  
In the lounge he found a girl.  
Tanya; naked, dozing lightly on a small couch. No blanket, no pillow.  
He woke her gently. She was startled at first, but relaxed once she recognized him. She said that she had basically been abandoned by her mistress.

Mihail was furious.   
He let Tanya sleep in his room and woke Melissa.  
They had a long and tedious fight, which ended with in him breaking up with her.  
On the next morning, crying, Tanya broke up with Melissa as well.

Anyways, Mihail was pansexual and did thus not care about his partner's sex, gender or pronoun. With Mena though, he felt too protective, too much like a family member to be sexually attracted to her.  
She was his type for the most part. Her breasts weren't too small or big; just slightly too large to fit in his hands. And her hips, ass and thighs were nice and soft, with a slight firmness beneath the fat and skin.  
He liked her face the most. Her doe-eyed expression, the auburn hair contrasting with her pale, pinkish, freckled skin just looked so nice, he thought. So endearing, making him feel so protective of her.  
That's why he had offered to let her come to his place, why he'd made her his pet. Because this way he could mentor and own her.  
He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb and smiled at her.  
“Doing good, belly-kitty?”, he asked, teasing tone disguising the caring note in his voice.  
Menina grinned widely at him.  
“Don't call mew that!”, she complained in an exaggerated, whiny tone. Mihail laughed.  
“Are we gonna sit down soon?”, Mena asked. Mihail nodded. He had a certain spot in mind for their picnic.  
Menina didn't mind walking. Mihail's faintly flickering smile was very nice to watch anyways. She smiled with him when his smile got wider.   
He glanced at her and found himself almost smirking suggestively.  
Something about her slightly flushed cheeks, her warm, fond eyes made him remember the last time she had come on his hand.

As always he had sat on the couch, knees slightly apart and patted his thigh. She climbed into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck.  
He then pushed his fingers past her damp slip and caressed her, fingertips moving further inside with every stroke. She moaned into his neck, his hair and rolled her hips.  
Once his fingers were wet with her juices, he pushed one inside; then two; then three. He pressed his long, slender fingers up into her g-spot, making her moan louder.  
His thumb rubbed circles into her clit as she rode his fingers.  
He liked her reactions. She responded nicely, moaning so sweetly. Another reason why he hadn't been able to stay with Melissa was her over-the-top shrieking. It was jarring how much she wailed when he so much as touched her.

When Mena came she clamped down on his fingers, trembling so hard he had to hold her so she didn't fall off his lap.  
Maybe he would treat her again next time. If she deserved it. He was strict about that.

“Here”, Mihail said after another while, pointing at a small, flat rock in the gentle sunlight.  
“Put down your jacket or take mine to sit on”, he instructed, not wanting to let her risk a bladder-infection.  
Mena held out her hand for his jacket, not willing to part with hers.  
He gave his jacket to her, rolling down the sleeves of his black shirt.  
Mena sat on his jacket and unpacked the pastries she had been carrying.  
She set Mihail's glazed bread roll down on the rock, making sure it sat on the paper and not the dirty stone before taking her own slice of chocolate-cheese-cake. They didn't have forks or spoons to eat with, so they simply took bites, holding the sweets in their wrapping papers to avoid sticky sugar-fingers.  
“Is it good?”, Mena asked, pointing her chin in the general direction of Mihail's pastry.  
He nodded and licked his lips.  
“Yours? Not too sweet?”  
“Very good. I'm glad they didn't over-sugar the cream”, Mena said.  
Mihail nodded in agreement and understanding. That's why he liked this bakery. They didn't make the common mistake of over-sugaring their cakes and pastries.  
“Will we get some fruit too?”, Mena asked when she was done with her slice, thinking ahead to their grocery-shopping.  
“Sure, why not. What fruit do you want?”  
“Apples, oranges… maybe some grapes?”, Mena suggested. Mihail nodded.

After finishing their snacks they sat there or a while, enjoying the warming sun. it was less chilly now so Mena took off her jacket, tying it around her waist.  
“Let's go!”, she said then and got up, patting her own butt.  
“Sure”, Mihail agreed and got up as well, letting Mena carry his jacket in exchange for his promise to carry the groceries.

The supermarket they went to regularly was about halfway between the park and their – well Mihail's – home.  
“How about we make pizza, hm?”, Mihail suggested.  
“From scratch?”  
“Yeah”  
“Great, yes!”  
Mihail smiled and petted Mena's head. 

They got what they needed fairly quickly and started to make their way home.  
The sun had fully decided to show her face and the air warmed up more and more.  
Mihail briefly set down the bag with their groceries to roll up his sleeves. He never hesitated to do so, even though he had scars on his wrists as well from wearing handcuffs for days in a row. These scars were so faint though, that nobody would see them from afar.  
Mena hooked her arm with his and so they walked along.

The bakery where they had gotten the bread and pastries was just around the corner from Mihail's apartment building. The pair soon reached said bakery, only for Mihail to slow his steps almost to a halt.  
A man stood in front of the bakery, with ashy blonde hair – except for one streak of black that framed his face on one side. He was eating a fresh soft pretzel and while he chewed he tilted his head back to enjoy the sun.

Mena slowed down and stopped when Mihail did. He took a stagger-step backwards. She shook his arm to get his attention.  
“Mihail?”, she asked worriedly. He looked at her like he was waking from a nightmare.  
“Mena”, he rasped dully. She touched his arm.   
“Mihail are you okay?”  
He looked back at the man who just then turned his head towards them.

Mihail visibly winced when the man's eyes briefly met his.  
The man averted his eyes before snapping right back again, staring at Mihail in disbelief.  
“Ria?!”, he breathed, barely audible.

Mihail didn't need to hear it. He knew the sound of his master's voice by heart.

Peter started walking towards Mihail and Mena, stopping at arm's length though. His eyes were so warm, scanning Mihail's face and body with nothing but adoration.  
Mihail did a small side-step, blocking Peter's sight of Mena.  
His mind was running amok.

Obey, protect, run, scream and cry, shut up and leave… 

“Ria… you've changed so much”, Peter finally said, “I almost didn't recognize you.”   
His eyes lingered on Mihail's scars before moving on to the piercings, locking with his one eye.  
“Not… not enough”, Mihail said, clearing his throat. Hearing his raspy voice seemed to hurt Peter physically. The adoration in his eyes was overwritten by guilt.  
“Oh, Ria…”  
“Peter...”, Mihail breathed. He held out one arm, keeping Mena behind himself. Peter raised his left hand slowly, fingertips brushing Mihail's chin; the scar on it.  
Slowly, his fingertips went higher, lacing into his hair.  
Mihail stopped breathing and closed his eyes.

Peter uncovered Mihail's right eye.

He dropped his hand and shook his head.  
“I did this”, he muttered under his breath.

“Who are you?”, asked Mena finally.  
She was clinging to Mihail's outstretched arm, looking at the stranger who had startled him so much.  
“Peter Schmidt”  
“Why do you call Mihail 'Ria'?”

Peter smiled sadly at Mena, understanding she was Mihail's current partner of sorts. 

His heart clenched though, when the realization sank in, that Mihail hadn't told her his middle name.

Mihail turned towards her, putting his arm around her shoulders and pulling her flush against his side.  
“It's my second name”, he said hoarsely, “My full name is Mihail Ria Kruma”  
Mena bit her lip and looked at Peter again.  
“Who are you”, she repeated.

Peter looked at Mihail. How much could he say?  
“He is… my first”

Mena immediately connected the dots. Her hesitant precaution turned into fiery fury and she stood in front of Mihail.  
“You did all that to him? To his eye, his body, his all of him?!”, she gasped. Mihail grabbed her arm firmly in an attempt at holding her back.  
“Mena”, he said weakly.  
“God, how could you… how even… why…”, Mena stammered, shaking her head in utter disbelief and horror.  
“Mena, stop”, Mihail tried again, gripping her arm tighter, but she kept struggling, pushing forward towards Peter angrily.  
Peter said nothing.

“Say something, you piece of…” - “Menina!”

Mihail yanked her back, putting his arms around her.  
“Stop it. Stop, please”, he said firmly.  
“Are you defending him? HIM?!”, Menina was almost hysterical now. More than her fear for Mihail's safety and wellbeing, she was scared for herself.  
This man was the image of pure evil that she had imagined. The one Mihail warned her about, time and time again. He embodied all the evil men in the world, all those who wanted to hurt others.   
Who wanted to hurt her.

“I changed”, Peter said, breaking through to the struggling pair.  
Mihail looked at him.  
“Ria, can we talk? Please?”, Peter asked, half-eaten pretzel forgotten in his right hand. Mihail swallowed hard.  
He shook his head.  
“Too… sudden”, he managed to choke out.  
“I know… yeah, sorry… you're right”, Peter muttered and took a step back, “Life moved on for you, didn't it… I should have thought about that”, he added, glancing regretfully at Mena.

Mihail lowered his head, eyes misting over before he could stop it from happening.  
“No… not… because of that. I mean, it has. But not…”, he whispered.  
Mena held onto him, his jacket squeezed in between them. She wasn't sure for whose sake she was clinging to him; her own, or his.

Peter licked his lips.  
“Will I see you again someday?”, he asked, voice breaking.  
He didn't want to let his Ria go again.

He had been so angry when he was sent to jail, with psychiatric therapy on top. He had been furious, ready to paint the walls of every single prison-cell red with blood.  
He punched the walls of his cell until his knuckles came away bloody.  
At night he would bellow Ria's name and throw up when he remembered the guilt.  
But it didn't change a thing.

He lost his strength after about a year.  
He stopped punching walls, he stopped glaring at other inmates, he stopped crying for a lost love. He accepted the fact that he had fucked up.

He finally began to pay attention during the therapy sessions. He learned so much about himself and even about Ria.  
His Ria…


End file.
